Author's note: On with the story. Hope you enjoy, and please review.
John watched as both Sherlock and the other consulting detective looked over the body. Eventually, his counterpart stood up and slowly moved around the room, starting at the fireplace. Sherlock meanwhile had spotted something under the man's nails and was pulling it carefully out.
John narrowed his eyes. There were definitely differences between their approaches at investigation.
There was an order to how John Watson did things. He walked across the room in a specific way, taking note of all that seemed important before moving on. He was more in control than Sherlock, who saw everything at once and began to deduce immediately.
John heard a slight sound behind him and quickly turned around, but found that he had no reason to worry; Mike was leaning against the wall, Bill's hand on his shoulder. He looked pale.
He caught John's eyes and smiled weakly.
"I'm not fond of the smell".
The doctor nodded and was about to ask if he wanted a glass of water when John announced, "Then you should better leave, unless you – "
"Can you wait outside?" Bill interrupted. In a quieter tone, he added "Sorry".
Mike pushed himself off the wall and raised a hand when his brother tried to steady him.
"Don't worry. I assume we shouldn't call the police?"
"If we do, the Secret Service will take over the investigation" John answered courtly.
John looked at Sherlock and saw that his friend was thinking the same thing as he: Mycroft might be the most dangerous man they had ever met, but having a brother who was the British Government had his upsides too. In this world, the consulting detective had to go up against the Secret Service when he wanted to take a look at one of their cases. True, in their universe it involved negotiations with Mycroft (and complaints from Sherlock when he was once again forced to take a case in return) but it made things easier that his elder brother could simply do as he pleased.
"Don't you have anyone – "
"The Secret Service considers my job as "dangerous to the public safety" John interrupted Sherlock, obviously annoyed. "It doesn't stop them from turning to me when they are unable to solve a problem, though".
The consulting detective nodded before asking abruptly, "Will he be fine?"
It took both John and Bill a moment to realize he was talking about Mycroft. The doctor was surprised; in the next second, he was ashamed that he was. Parallel universe or not, this man looked like Sherlock's brother, and he had probably never seen Mycroft look pale and weak. Bill was unsuccessfully trying to hide his grin, telling John that he had been concerned about his and Mike's relationship and that he might be more uncomfortable with the situation than he'd led on.
"He'll be okay. He's just a little sensitive when it comes to blood..." his voice carried the tone of a younger brother who had teased his sibling with his weakness quite a lot in the past and would continue to do so, and John wondered why they had to travel to a parallel universe to find a functioning sibling relationship in their environment. He thought of Sherlock being worried about Mycroft, in this dimension or another, he thought of Harry. He hadn't called her in weeks – closer to a month, actually.
"How long do you think we have until the assistant gets suspicious?" John's voice broke through his thoughts and he glanced at Sherlock to see his friend ponder the question for a few moments before replying, "Based on how nervous he was, about an hour. He will then call the police because his concern for Doctor Pike is stronger than his fear of being targeted by the Secret Service."
"Sentiment?"
"Sentiment" Sherlock confirmed before John could, and the doctor was struck by how much the consulting detective had changed since they'd met.
"We have to move fast. John?"
He stepped over to the body and kneeled down.
Doctor Pike's throat had been cut – but there were cuts on his arms that spoke of a struggle. He must have fought for his life.
Bill had put on gloves and was walking into the kitchen.
He answered their unspoken question with a simple, "I work in a lab. I'm good at finding small stuff".
He was looking for clues he might not be able to interpret, but was nonetheless able to find. So that was what he did on crime scenes. Sherlock would have been surprised if he hadn't had a special talent . Neither he nor this world's John liked their ordinary people too ordinary.
"John?"
"He's been dead for about three hours – whoever his attacker was, he must have been strong. He's quite possibly injured too – "
"He lived alone" Sherlock said, "has done so for at least two years – "
"Hasn't been in a relationship during this time" John finished. "Highly intelligent loner – "
"and it is unlikely that he worked with Trevelyan".
"Why does that make it unlikely? If Trevelyan is as intelligent as he was, and if Pike was for some reason angry at his employers, maybe because he didn't feel appreciated enough – " John argued, but his counterpart shook his head and stood up. He pointed to the desk under the window of the living room. It was clean.
"So?"
"His laptop is still there. If he worked with Trevelyan, there had to be some form of communication between them, email most likely being one of them. If Trevelyan killed Pike and they were working together, he would have destroyed any evidence that they knew each other. It is possible that Trevelyan only came to Pike today, expecting help. A visit from another universe would certainly explain why Pike would risk being late for work. Plus, we know Pike wasn't good at keeping secrets, as long as he profited from telling them to anyone who would listen. And to being proven right that there were in fact parallel universes – "
"In other words" Sherlock continued, "Not only did Pike probably refuse to help Trevelyan, but he our man found himself in risk of being exposed. Whatever his plan may be – if it included revealing himself to the public he would have done it by now."
"What did you find under his fingernails?"
"Dirt" Sherlock replied. "We have to analyze it. It does appear to be more of the colour of dirt usually found south of the Thames, but I can't be sure".
"I found something" Bill called out from the kitchen and they entered. He was scratching something of the surface of the stove. He frowned.
"Some kind of residue".
He put it in a small bag while John looked over the kitchen in the same careful way he had searched the living room.
Sherlock did his own search – far quicker and less methodical, but the doctor found it strangely comforting. He still wasn't used to watching himself, and he doubted he would, and Sherlock's behaviour, so normal, helped him relax.
The consulting detective raised an eyebrow as he saw his colleague once more go through every drawer, even if it didn't promise a lead.
He was content with seeing what was there, deducing everything there was to deduce, and then sweep out to catch the person responsible. He loved the chase almost as much as he loved solving cases, which was one of the reasons he had never complained about legwork unless Mycroft had forced the case upon him.
John Watson had to see everything, check everything. It wasn't that he couldn't tell that nothing was there – Sherlock was reasonably sure of that after having heard his deductions about Pike – but he had to search the whole flat nonetheless simply because he wanted to make sure. Because he was using the methodical approach Sherlock had never considered because there was no need to waste time.
He had to admit that John the consulting detective worked exactly like he would have expected it from his ex-army doctor if he had chosen the profession.
A text alert rang out and Sherlock automatically moved to pull out his phone before he realized it was Bill's.
The other man read the text and called out, "We have to leave. There are three black cars coming this way".
"Mike?"
"Of course. Just like him to keep watch".
They quickly left the flat and took the stairs to the next floor; as John explained, "The members of the Secret Service only care about their mission. They will only look into his flat and nowhere else".
They stood on the landing and, as soon as they heard them open the door to Pike's flat, left.
Mike appeared beside them when they exited the building.
"And, did you find something?" he asked. "I hope you haven't been breaking the law without getting results".
Bill filled him in while John led the way to the next street corner where he called a cab. Sherlock and John were silent as they contemplated whether Pike's death meant that the only person besides Trevelyan who could get them home was gone.